Just like with boats, RVs don’t fare well when left sitting. We spent two full months in Mazatlan and the day we left I started the engine and discovered that the rear main seal was leaking again. That’s the one that leaves a puddle of oil on the ground after starting the engine up for the first time during the day.
Leaving Sayulita after three weeks of immobility we pulled out onto the highway to discover that the blinkers were no longer working. I should have known that getting the oven working was not going to put me any further ahead on the to-do list.
So, yeah, we left Sayulita and headed south. Not far, just to Puerto Vallarta, to show the kids around their birthplace/old stomping grounds. We’ve got a few odds and ends to clean up, and then we’ll be off again.
After a couple of days here in PV, however, we’re contemplating which way to go. It’s only mid-April, and we figured we’d have at least a few more weeks of bearable temperatures along the coast, but the heat here has been pretty exhausting already. Exhausting because by about three o’clock the heat and humidity has sucked any energy we had right out of us. So, we’re up in the air at the moment—maybe we continue south, maybe we crank the wheel inland.
Sayulita campground friends.
Ouest’s doll, Molly, has to be one of the greatest pieces of Chinese made junk ever made. I mean, I wouldn’t have given this doll a year to live when she first arrived. Now here she is strapped into her bike seat three years later. Lowe has one too—Minnie. They both sleep with them curled up right next to their faces.
Everybody has a job to do. Mine is to hold the windshield washer boy.
Beginning of a day bumming around Puerto Vallarta.
It’s been years since we made her this bracelet. She wore it for a long time, then it got put away in her jewelry box. It was fun to see her bring it out again today.
The malécon has a statue on each block, all of which seemed designed to allow kids to climb all over them.
I’ve probably eaten a hundred tacos from this carnitas stand (corner of Lázaro Cárdenas and Aguacate). I love them. If we were in the second grade and I told you how much I loved these tacos you would say, “Why don’t you marry them, then?” And I totally would.
I asked the owner how many years he’s been at it—twenty-seven. I wish I would have thought to ask him how many kilos of meat he goes through in a day, because this stand is always busy.
When you walk up he asks, “Taquitos?”
Then if you want to sound like you know what you’re doing you tell him how many you want on each plate, not how many tacos total.
“Tres, dos, dos, dos.”
Grab your plastic bag sheathed plates of deliciousness, pile on your salsa and jalapeños, and eat. Go back up for more, because you will want to stuff your body full, then when you’re all done, and only then, do you pay the girl.
We walked up the hill to take a look at the condo we used to rent in the summers, or when Lowe was born. This picture is of the hill going one block further up than we had to in order to get to our place. That one probably would have broken us. It was a hard enough climb already.
While we were standing on top of this defunct lighthouse thousands of bees suddenly came down the hill and flew right through us on their way to a mango tree across the street. Funny how cool you play things when the kids are around. If it had been just Ali and me we would have been flying down those steps three at a time, not just sitting there really still.
I oftentimes wonder how scenes like this are wiring my kids’ brains for who or what they’ll become in the future.